Killigrew and the Golden Dragon

by Jonathan Lunn

  ‘Thanks.’ Killigrew climbed down from the hammock which had been slung in Bowyear’s cabin for him. ‘Mind if I borrow your shaving things?’

  ‘By all means.’

  ‘Much obliged.’ Killigrew worked up a lather and applied it to his face before scraping at his bristles.

  ‘I wonder if we’ll be finished here in time to get back to Victoria for the dragon boat festival?’ said Bowyear.

  ‘Christ!’

  ‘What’s the matter?’

  Killigrew studied the nick he had carved in himself in the mirror above the basin. ‘I’d forgotten it was tonight.’

  Bowyear grinned. ‘Damned inconsiderate, these pilongs. You should’ve told Zhai Jing-mu you had other plans.’

  Killigrew did not smile. If there was some plot due to be hatched that night, then it was entirely possible that the fact Zhai Jing-mu was holed up in his lair would prevent it from coming to fruition. But if Bannatyne was behind it then Killigrew suspected the tai-pan would have taken every eventuality into account.

  He dressed while Bowyear shaved and washed himself, and then the two of them joined the rest of the officers for breakfast in the washroom. Afterwards he took his cup of tea on deck and found the Chinese wardroom steward balancing on one leg on the gunwale, performing a sequence of almost balletic movements in slow time.

  Killigrew moved to stand in front of him. ‘Good morning,’ he said in Cantonese.

  ‘Good morning,’ the steward replied evenly, neither looking down nor breaking off his sequence.

  ‘Do this every morning, do you?’

  ‘When it is practical. These are my t’ai chi chu’an exercises.’ Li moved gracefully into a new position: left knee drawn up as far as it would go, right hand raised in a fist above his head and his left hand held level with his stomach, palm upwards. ‘This is called “Lion Opening Mouth”.’

  ‘I see,’ Killigrew said dubiously.

  ‘T’ai chi chu’an exercises focus the mind and spirit, and aid meditation, as well as developing muscles, posture, and correct breathing technique.’ Li brought his right hand down and his left hand up until they were level in front of his face, at the same time stretching his left leg out before him parallel to the deck. Then he bent his leg at the knee and stretched his arm out on either side.

  ‘And you find balancing on a gunnel helps?’

  ‘In t’ai chi chu’an, as in so many things in life, balance is the key.’

  Killigrew shrugged. He was not in the habit of criticising other people’s beliefs, so long as those beliefs did not harm other people. He made a gesture with his tea cup that was half-toast, half a motion for Li to carry on, before crossing to where Keppel had emerged on to the quarterdeck.

  ‘You do realise he’s a Chinese spy, don’t you, sir?’ he murmured.

  ‘Good Lord, yes,’ said Keppel. ‘But you know what the Admiralty’s unofficial policy is on letting the Chinese see Western technology.’

  ‘Let them see as much as they like and hope they’ll be impressed into acknowledging our superiority?’

  Keppel nodded. ‘Complete waste of time, of course. Benjamin Franklin obviously never travelled in the Orient, otherwise when he said that nothing was certain in this world except death and taxes he would have added John Chinaman’s unshakeable conviction in his total superiority to all other races of mankind. Still, if I’m going to have a spy on board my ship, I’d much rather know exactly where he is—’

  ‘Sail ho!’ cried the look-out at the masthead.

  It was the Shanghae, returning with reinforcements following in her wake; or rather, reinforcement, for the only vessel she sailed with was the Tisiphone. The paddle-sloop hove to alongside the frigate. Ordinarily it would have been Captain Keppel’s privilege as the senior officer of the three ships to ask the captains of the other two vessels to meet him on board the Mœander, but since Killigrew had to be taken back to his own ship, Keppel decided to hold his council of war on board the paddle-sloop.

  Commander Robertson and Lord Hartcliffe awaited them on the quarterdeck. ‘Shall we go down to my day room, gentlemen?’ suggested Robertson. Keppel might be the senior officer present, but Robertson was the host and it was up to him to take the initiative.

  They made their way below. ‘Good to have you back, Killigrew,’ Hartcliffe murmured in Killigrew’s ear.

  ‘Any news of Mrs Bannatyne or the Golden Dragon?’

  ‘Seaman Molineaux says he overheard Captain Ingersoll tell the Reverend Mr Ultzmann the Golden Dragon would be in the Cap-sing-mun anchorage at midnight tonight.’

  ‘If Bannatyne hasn’t changed his plans,’ agreed Killigrew. ‘Still, that’s one rendezvous the good reverend won’t be keeping.’

  ‘He’s dead?’

  Killigrew nodded. ‘Another of Zhai Jing-mu’s victims. I persuaded him to change sides at the last moment, not that it did the poor devil much good…’

  Hartcliffe coughed into his fist, a quarterdeck signal that Robertson was approaching.

  ‘I shall want a full written report of your activities since the moment you jumped ship the day before yesterday, Second,’ growled Robertson. ‘When I’ve seen that I’ll decide what punishment to give you for disobeying my orders. That can wait until after we’ve dealt with these pilongs, mind,’ he added, indicating that he expected Killigrew to redeem himself today.

  They entered the day room and Killigrew was mildly surprised to find Admiral Huang waiting for them. The admiral rose to his feet and bowed to the British officers.

  ‘Gentlemen, I believe you all know Admiral Huang of the Imperial Chinese Navy,’ said Robertson. ‘The admiral’s fleet of war-junks is following from Canton and should be here in a few hours. Governor Bonham and Governor-General Xu both agreed it would be politic if this was a joint Anglo-Chinese operation.’

  The commander did not have to explain further: everyone in the room understood that there would be no arguments with the Chinese authorities about the legality of the operation if a Chinese admiral were party to it.

  Keppel got proceedings underway. ‘I suggest we start by considering the position,’ he said without preamble. ‘Since Lieutenant Killigrew has actually been up the creek where the pilong fleet is anchored, he’s kindly volunteered to give us the picture.’

  Killigrew unrolled a rough sketch-plan he had drawn up. It showed the shape of the creek as he could best remember it, with the jetty and the village marked on. ‘This shows the positions of the enemy’s junks as they were when I last saw them late yesterday afternoon,’ he explained. ‘I think we can rest assured they’ll have changed since then.’

  ‘How many junks?’

  ‘I saw thirty-five with my own eyes, not including the seven that the Mœander chased into the bay. They hadn’t anchored when I was forced to make my rather hurried departure. Most of them carry about nine guns in each broadside but the largest, Zhai Jing-mu’s flagship, carries twenty in each broadside and two stern guns. There may be more junks hidden further up the creek; I’m afraid I didn’t get a chance to check. There was also a smug boat tied up at the jetty. That’s all I can tell you for now.’

  ‘We’ve sounded the bar and found a channel through into the bay,’ added Keppel. ‘It’s not deep, but the Mœander should be able to scrape through at high tide.’ Of the three ships in the flotilla, the Mœander had the deepest draught.

  ‘When’s the top of high water, sir?’ asked Robertson.

  ‘Half-past seven this morning,’ said Keppel. He had already checked the almanac and had no need to consult his notes. ‘And again at five this evening.’

  ‘It’s nearly seven now,’ said Robertson. ‘Do we go in at once, or wait for the Chinese junks and then go in this evening?’

  Keppel turned to Huang. ‘Admiral?’

  ‘Every moment we delay gives Zhai Jing-mu more time to prepare his defences,’ said Huang. ‘And the longer we delay, the more time he has to escape overland.’

  ‘Very well,’ said Keppel. ‘
Unless anyone has any objections, we’ll go in this morning. Commander Robertson will lead the attack in the Shanghae, if Captain Carfax is agreeable…?’

  The captain of the Shanghae inclined his head. ‘What will our strategy be?’

  Keppel scratched his head, as if puzzled by the question. ‘We go into the creek and shoot up everything in sight.’

  Everyone nodded approvingly.

  ‘The Tisiphone, under Lieutenant Lord Hartcliffe, will follow the Shanghae towing the Mœander.’ Keppel checked his fob-watch. ‘To your ships, gentlemen, and clear for action. We enter the bay in twenty-eight minutes’ time.’

  They went up on deck. Hartcliffe asked the boatswain to give the order to beat to quarters, while Robertson and Captain Carfax transhipped to the Shanghae in one gig and Keppel returned to the Mœander in another.

  The Tisiphone manoeuvred to take the Mœander in tow. On all three ships the hands scurried to and fro in the familiar frenetic ballet of clearing the decks for action. Every man knew his post. Netting was strung up over the decks, the anchors raised and the gun crews got into position. Both the Shanghae and the Tisiphone already had steam up. As soon as the Tisiphone and the Mœander signalled they were ready, Robertson and Cargill climbed back into the Shanghae’s gig and rowed to the prow to lead them in over the bar, sounding out the channel as they went. The flotilla could only sail as fast as the oarsmen in the gig could row, so they moved off slowly at first, the Mœander’s sails reefed and the paddle-wheels of the two steamers turning lazily.

  Admiral Huang had stayed on board the Tisiphone and stood on the quarter-deck with Hartcliffe and Killigrew, who had retrieved his cutlass and pepperbox from his cabin.

  With the Tisiphone less than half a cable’s length astern of the Shanghae, Killigrew could clearly hear the voice of the leadsman to the Shanghae’s gig as he measured the depth with a lead-line and called out the soundings. ‘By the mark, twain… and a quarter, twain… and a half, twain… and a quarter, twain…’ The gig moved up and down the bar as the leadsman searched for the channel. The three ships hove to and waited.

  ‘Zhai Jing-mu’s flagship must have a draught of at least three fathoms, from the size of her,’ said Killigrew. ‘If that could get through at high water, then so can the Mœander.’

  ‘…and a half, twain… a quarter less, three… a quarter less, three…’

  ‘The tide will be turning soon,’ said Hartcliffe.

  Killigrew gripped the rail tightly. ‘Doesn’t matter. Zhai’s fleet isn’t going anywhere, and if we have to wait until this evening then we’ll have the added advantage of Huang’s junks to help us.’

  ‘And a half, twain,’ the leadsman’s voice droned monotonously. ‘And a quarter, twain… and a half, twain…’

  Hartcliffe directed his telescope across the bay towards the mouth of the creek.

  ‘You won’t be able to see them yet,’ said Killigrew. ‘The main anchorage is a good five miles upstream of that headland.’

  ‘By the mark, four!’ the leadsman called out triumphantly, finding the channel where the depth increased to eighteen feet. ‘And a quarter, four… and a half, four… a quarter less, five… by the mark, five… and a half, five… and a quarter, six…’ On the far side of the bar, the bottom plunged away quickly.

  ‘Looks like they’re through!’ said Hartcliffe, and a moment later the Shanghae’s paddles began to turn as she followed the gig through the narrow channel. He turned to Midshipman Cavan. ‘Ask Mr Muir to take us ahead, slow.’

  ‘Aye, aye, sir.’ Cavan went below to the engine room and soon the Tisiphone was towing the Mœander in her wake.

  Killigrew glanced aft and saw the current before the bar carry the Mœander to the left side of the channel. He signalled desperately for the helmsman on the frigate to steer to starboard before they were grounded. Orders were relayed across the frigate’s deck and her head began to come around, but it was too late; a moment later a slight shudder ran through the Mœander and she seemed to drop astern.

  ‘She’s grounded!’ warned Hartcliffe, and turned to Cavan, who had just returned on deck. ‘Tell Mr Muir to stop all engines immediately.’

  ‘Aye, aye, sir!’

  The cable between the Tisiphone and the Mœander grew taut. For a moment Killigrew feared it would snap, and the frigate would become grounded. It was touch and go: a moment later the frigate slid forwards once more. ‘It’s all right, she’s free.’ Killigrew turned back to where the midshipman was halfway through the after-hatch. ‘Belay that last order, Mr Cavan! The Mœander is free.’

  Then all three ships were across the bar and crossing the deep bay to the mouth of the creek. The Shanghae hove to long enough to take the gig back on board and then advanced once more, ahead slow, the leadsman at the channels still calling out the soundings every so often as they groped their way blindly up the uncharted creek.

  Killigrew strolled the length of the Tisiphone’s deck, inspecting the gun crews and making sure that everything was ready for the coming fight. He paused by the pivot gun in the forecastle, where Molineaux had been appointed to replace O’Connor as captain of the gun. ‘I see you made it back all right, Molineaux.’

  ‘Aye, aye, sir. I did understand you right back on the Buchan Prayer, didn’t I?’

  ‘Perfectly right, Molineaux. I’ve already commended you in my report to Commander Robertson.’

  Molineaux’s face fell. ‘I’d rather you hadn’t done that, sir.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Well, when I got back on board the Tisiphone yesterday, Commander Robertson said the only reason he wasn’t going to punish me for going adrift with you was because he was certain he’d soon have you yourself to throw the book at.’

  ‘It’s nice to know our captain has such confidence in me,’ Killigrew said wryly. His inspection finished, he returned to join Hartcliffe and Admiral Huang on the quarter-deck.

  ‘Did you have any success in learning more of the Triads’ plot?’ asked Huang.

  ‘Some. As far as I can gather, they’re trying to start a war between Britain and China. The idea is that the Manchu regime will be so weakened by another war, the Triads will have no difficulty in overthrowing the Ch’ing Dynasty.’

  ‘I suspected as much,’ Huang snorted contemptuously. ‘The Imperial Grand Council will not initiate such a war, I can assure you.’

  ‘Bannatyne and Zhai know that. My guess is they’re planning to commit some atrocity against the Europeans in Hong Kong which will have the people in Britain screaming for Chinese blood.’ Killigrew thought hard, trying to remember what little Zhai Jing-mu had told him in the hope it would reveal a clue. ‘Zhai said something about the first shot in the war. Perhaps they’re planning to assassinate Governor Bonham.’

  ‘The Portuguese didn’t declare war when the Governor of Macao was murdered by the Triads,’ pointed out Hartcliffe. ‘Besides, Governor-General Xu Guang-jin has been invited to sit with Bonham in the gubernatorial stand to watch the dragon boat race. Supposing the assassin missed Bonham and hit Xu by accident?’

  ‘Governor-General Xu has been forced to remain in Canton due to illness—’ The admiral broke off and stared at them both in horror.

  ‘You think Xu might be a part of it?’ asked Hartcliffe

  Huang shook his head. ‘Inconceivable. The Governor-General is a close friend of mine. We studied together for the civil service examinations in Peking. He would never be a party to a plot against the Dragon Throne.’

  ‘Perhaps not,’ said Killigrew. ‘But suppose someone slipped something into his food? Nothing fatal, you understand; just something to give him stomach cramps, like whatever you gave the Mœander’s steward to make a place for your man Li.’

  Hartcliffe nodded slowly. ‘If something happens to Bonham tonight and Governor-General Xu is conveniently absent, no one will believe for a moment that the Chinese authorities were not party to the assassination. The public back home will be howling for Chinese blood. War will become inevitable
…’

  Killigrew was about to reply when a shout earned across from the Shanghae’s look-out: ‘Sail ho!’

  The Tisiphone’s own look-out raised his telescope and peered up the creek.

  ‘What can you see?’ Hartcliffe called up through the speaking trumpet.

  ‘Four, five… no, at least twenty, twenty-five of them! They’re anchored in close order across the creek!’

  ‘Trying to bar the passage,’ surmised Killigrew. ‘The rest must be further upstream.’ On an impulse he took the telescope from the binnacle, crossed the deck and ascended the ratlines. He stopped at the maintop and gazed up the creek. The junks were just as the look-out had described them, moored bow to stern across the whole width of the creek. There were twenty-seven of them in all.

  He descended to the deck once more and described what he had seen to Hartcliffe. ‘Looks like they’re ready for us. I recognised Zhai Jing-mu’s flagship in the centre of the line.’

  ‘You think Zhai Jing-mu himself is on board? I would have thought he’d be skulking somewhere towards the rear.’

  ‘Not he. He may be a pirate and a murderer, but he’s courageous, I’ll say that much for him. Besides, his junk has the biggest broadside of them all. They wouldn’t want that missing from their ambush.’

  ‘Well, if they’re ready for us, that cuts both ways.’

  The boatswain’s mates piped for silence. It was important for the crew to be quiet when they went into action: soon things would be noisy enough as it was, and they would need to hear orders clearly. But there was more to the silence than that: there was a palpable air of tension on board. Killigrew shared the crew’s trepidation. One navy paddle-sloop was more than a match for any junk of war, but three European vessels against forty-two junks? He hoped they were not biting off more than they could chew. And there was always the danger that Zhai Jing-mu had one more trick up his sleeve…

  Chapter 17

  A Dragon Throne in Hell

  The PS Shanghae, HMS Tisiphone and HMS Mœander rounded another bend in the creek, and then there was less than a mile of water to where the junks were anchored. Zhai Jing-mu had daringly decided to defend the creek at its widest point, so that he would be able to bring more guns to bear on the flotilla.